Forgotten Innocence
by blackandwhitepeacock
Summary: Arthur Kirkland looks back on the past only to wish that Alfred was a young colony again. Some spells are cast, some smiles are given and viola! Alfred may be in for a surprise when he wakes up in the morning...


**Forgotten Innocence [part 1]**

**A story written by blackandwhitepeacock**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters associated with the series (although I wish I did).**

_This is weird, _thought Alfred as he walked up to an all-too-familiar house in London. _Arthur never invites me over…_

Walking up the cobblestone walkway, Alfred eventually arrived at the front doors of the large Victorian-style mansion of his youth. He grabbed the silver door-knocker and tapped the old, wooden door with it a few times.

Minutes later, Arthur opened his door to find a young American man. Smiling, he asked his brother to come in. Much to Arthur's dismay, the disrespectful man threw his suitcase down and immediately plopped onto the couch. Trying to hide his irritation, the Englishman casually walked over to the American, expecting him to speak.

As if the man had read Arthur's mind, Alfred started to speak. His loud, obnoxious voice cut through the air while Arthur tried his best to stay at peace. As if attempting to irritate the Englishman even further, Alfred asked, "So, dude, you never invite me over! What's up?"

'_What's up?' My God, this is how he chooses to speak? _Arthur questioned himself, _I know I taught him correctly at first…_ He trailed off in his head as he answered to the question, "Does it surprise you that maybe I wanted to see my little brother for once?"

_Little brother? He hasn't called me that in a long time– _Alfred just shrugged as he thought. _He seems happy. But, knowing Arthur, he must have called me over for some other reason. Ever since the Revolution he doesn't look at me the same way he used to. I know he's really upset, but I want independence!_

After a day of awkward conversations, Alfred eventually fell asleep in Arthur's guest bedroom. A small smile crept its way onto Arthur's face as he thought about the days when America was still just a colony of his.

Recently, Arthur had gone through his storage room. The place was absolutely littered with memories of Arthur's past, and as he was looking through it all, a large painting hanging on the wall caught his attention. Upon closer inspection, the painting revealed itself to be a portrait done of Alfred and himself. Merely looking at the painting brought a smile to the otherwise grouchy Englishman's face. He looked at the painting of himself (a much younger version of himself) standing with his arm around Alfred while the boy was still a colony of his. He could remember actually posing for the portrait.

_Alfred was sleeping the day away, only to a certain Englishman's dismay. Carefully, Arthur shook the sleeping boy in an attempt to wake him. When the boy finally fluttered his tired eyes open, he looked at the tall man next to his bed. _

"_What?" he asked, a hint of anger in his voice._

"_Get up, Alfred. We are having a portrait painted today. Don't you remember?"_

_Alfred simply pulled the blanket over his head. Attempting to sleep again, the boy rolled over and closed his eyes._

_Trying not to become too irritated by this action, Arthur pulled at the blanket and carried Alfred with him. Pouting, the boy crossed his small arms but made no attempt to free himself from the man's grasp. _

_Finally outside, Alfred watched as Arthur spoke with a man whom he had never seen before. Waiting as patiently as a young boy could, he tried not to be too much of a nuisance._

_Minutes later, the man started painting the two brothers. _

"_Alfred, hold still."_

_Alfred desperately tried to remain still, but being the hyperactive little bugger he was, he just couldn't stay focused for too long. Eventually he would hum a short song or tap his foot, making the taller man look over and correct him immediately._

The smile on Arthur's face soon faded. Why did it have to end like that? Why couldn't Alfred stay the dependent little boy he used to be?

Suddenly, Arthur had an amazing idea. What if Alfred _could_ be that dependent little boy he used to be? Yes! It all made perfect sense! All Arthur would have to do is perform a quick spell! Now Arthur was excited. How could he not be? Alfred would no longer be the stupid American git who claimed independence from Arthur over two hundred years ago. He would no longer be the cause of Arthur's sadness every single Fourth of July. No longer would Arthur have to suffer in his own emotions!

Arthur quickly (and quietly, as not to wake the sleeping American) ran to his basement. He somewhat sloppily threw on his cloak and picked up an old book. Carefully, the Englishman flipped the thin pages, as not to rip them from their ancient binding. The man's eyes lit up when he finally found what he was looking for: a "fountain of youth" spell, as the antique book put it. Glad that he could still read the old letters, he began reading the selection with interest. When he was finally sure that he had found the correct spell, he began lighting candles, as directed in the book.

The candles were arranged in a circle surrounding the Briton. Arthur stood in the center of the "circle of fire" and slowly began to speak the written words aloud. Closing his eyes, he meticulously pronounced every syllable correctly, trying desperately not to falter from the text. He felt calm, the words seemed to slide smoothly from the man's mouth as he stated (with an incredible amount of feeling, I might add), "O, sangas, ábære mec ríce bredan min fréond æt cnihtcild!"

He repeated the difficult phrase over and over again until he could feel the magic brewing inside the "circle of fire". He allowed a small smirk to sneak across his otherwise peaceful expression, picturing the American (whom the spell was directed toward).

Once the Englishman could feel the magic slowly fading away, he stopped reciting the spell and opened his contented, emerald eyes. He chuckled to himself, imagining the small, innocent face that would look up to him in the morning. In all of his chuckling, he _did_ seem to wonder things as well. What if Alfred didn't remember anything from his future? That would be even better! Then the American colonies could be Arthur's for the taking! He could have his old land back! Not to mention the new land America had acquired over the past two hundred-and-something years, what with the Louisiana Purchase and similar land treaties.

Arthur tiredly placed his cloak and antiquated book where he found them previously, as to not upset the order of the room, and trudged up the wooden spiral staircase which led to his (rather timeworn) room. He simply couldn't wait to see the young nation stare up at his elder with those big, pure, sky-blue eyes Arthur once treasured deeply.

For now, however, Arthur simply had to wait. After changing into more comfortable clothes, the Briton climbed into an inviting bed and slowly drifted off into a pleasant slumber, eagerly awaiting the next day.


End file.
